His corpse slumped to the ground. Mushy globs leaked from his right eye socket, the viscous liquid soaking into the yellowish moss.
I didn’t mind this one dying quickly. He was not the leader of the operation, merely the muscle to do a job.
But his buddy? Now, she and I were scheduled for a conversation.
My trek to where I had left the leader was short, but as it neared its finish line, muffled cries caressed my ears.
Yet only emptiness met me in the spot I had last seen her. I rested the rifle on my shoulder, debating whether I should prolong our game or get it over with quickly.
An obvious trail of crushed bushes betrayed her weak attempt at an escape, and I practically rolled my eyes. A person’s survival instincts would make them do anything to increase the likelihood of seeing another day, but she should have realized there was no chance I would allow it.
Paying no heed to the shrubs abrading my legs, I prowled to my prey hiding behind an oak. The crooked angle of her ankle came into view, her shock intensifying as I rounded the tree.
“So.” I smacked the barrel of my rifle against my hand. “Did you know that a million glass fragments have cut my woman up because ofyou?”
Sitting on her ass, the soldier scrambled away from me. “She deserves to die. Like all of you. Pigs thinking they’re worth more than humanity’s survival shouldn’t?—”
She screamed.
Her ankle had snagged on a gnarled root poking out of the earth.
I smiled. Nature itself had decided to shut her up, to fill her with howls instead of the bullshit Coriattus had brainwashed her into believing.
“I should probably also mention that my man’s arm now has a fucking trench in it fromyourbullet.” I cocked the gun against my shoulder. “So why don’t we make it even?” I aimed. “A hand for a hand.”
The recoil tested the strength of my joint as a single bullet left the shaft. A circular hole appeared in her right hand, her delayed shriek resonating in the forest.
“An arm for an arm.”
The black helmet secured under her chin slid an increment down her forehead, hiding a stray curl of copper hair. “What?—”
Scarlet burst from her forearm.
Scanning my surroundings for additional soldiers, despite being certain these two were all that Coriattus had sent for us, I crouched down. Not a leaf fluttered in the wind, and I positioned the opening of the firearm to her right cheek.
Laying on her back, she strained to turn away, pressing the left side of her face into the damp forest floor.
I dug the barrel into her flesh. “A jaw for a jaw.” My forefinger overcame the trigger’s resistance.
Shavings of teeth and strips of flesh flew out of her mouth. Her screams morphed into sobs, then pants, and then convulsions as she succumbed to a fit of coughing. More bits of enamel littered the moss serving as a pillow for her head, too nice and spongy for the feces of Coriattus’ military.
I dragged the rifle down. “A chest for a chest.”
A spasm rocked through her as crimson began to trickle from under her collarbone, and a reddish-brown stain spread in her skintight, dark green shirt.
I positioned the gun at her carotid artery. “And finally, a neck for a neck.”
Blood sprayed, coating my weapon and calves in warmth, quenching the thirst the moss surely had been enduring since the last rain.
Coriattus could not have possibly expected their military puppets to survive venturing into Conall’s compound’s grounds.
Sacrificial lambs—that was what the soldiers were.
Resorting to leaving the corpses in the forest for Conall’s people to pick up later, I strode back to the house, my pace increasing until I was running across the yard, sprinting up the stairs and slamming into the door.
An iron shoe rack grated against the wooden floor, scraping the milky paint and shiny coating.
The kitchen stood empty. No bodies lay on the?—
